Swansea Girls

by Catrin Collier

  ‘They kept your mother in, Katie.’ Norah told Katie the news as soon as the girls ran downstairs in the morning. ‘She’s broken her arm in a couple of places, fractured her skull and her cheekbone. She’s also cracked her jawbone and ribs and has a few bruises, but the doctor who saw her last night said there’s no reason why she shouldn’t be as good as new after a couple of weeks’ care in hospital and a month or two’s rest at home,’ she added, stretching the truth.

  ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘This afternoon, Lily and I will walk to the hospital with you and until your mother comes home you’ll be staying with us. I settled it last night,’ Norah said firmly, forestalling any argument.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Evans, but what about my brothers?’

  ‘They’re grown men; they can manage on their own for a few weeks. Good morning, Brian.’ Norah turned to greet him as he walked into the dining room. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Evans.’

  ‘You stayed in the police station with Jack ...’ Katie began nervously.

  ‘As I told Lily last night, he’s fine, Katie. There’ll be no charges.’

  ‘But that boy ...’

  ‘Everyone agreed it would be better to drop the whole thing.’

  ‘So nothing’s going to happen to Jack?’

  ‘Nothing, he’s home, you can see him.’

  ‘After breakfast,’ Norah interrupted. ‘The potato pancakes will need turning, Lily. Katie, if you’ll be kind enough to cut the bread, two slices each makes ten but bring the loaf in. We may need more.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Evans.’

  Norah waited until she was alone with Brian. ‘After we’ve eaten, would you go to next door’s basement and ask Martin and Jack to call in here as soon as they can? My brother will want a word with them.’

  ‘About last night?’ Brian asked, slightly mystified.

  ‘Their mother had an accident; he’ll want to see them about that. Now we don’t stand on ceremony in this house, the tea’s made. Why don’t you pour yourself a cup.’

  ‘Constable Williams.’ Joy’s face was stern, her voice cold as she opened her front door to see Roy on her doorstep. ‘You’ve called about last night.’ She spoke loudly for the benefit of the milkman who was delivering bottles next door.

  ‘Morning, Mrs Hunt, Constable Williams.’ The milkman tipped his hat before spending longer than necessary picking up the empty bottles and arranging his delivery on the doorstep.

  ‘Morning, Sid.’

  ‘Morning,’ Joy acknowledged briefly.

  ‘Mrs Hunt, the duty sergeant down at the station asked me to let you know that everything’s been cleared up. We won’t be needing statements from Judy or the other girls about the fight they witnessed outside the Pier last night,’ Roy answered in an equally loud voice.

  ‘If you’d care to come in, Constable, I’ve just made a pot of tea.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Hunt, but I’ve just come off shift. I have another call to make and my sister will be expecting me for breakfast.’

  ‘And Helen?’ she murmured quietly as the milkman returned to his truck.

  ‘Is probably very shaken this morning.’

  ‘I’ve told Judy she’s not to associate with her any more.’

  ‘Norah said the same thing last night, but I think you’re both being a bit hasty. That girl will need her friends more than ever after yesterday.’

  ‘I won’t have Judy jeopardising her reputation by being seen with Helen. A widow with a young daughter to bring up can’t be too careful ...’ She turned aside, unable to meet the look in Roy’s eye.

  ‘Thank you for your offer of tea, Mrs Hunt. Good morning.’ Straightening his helmet, Roy walked past the milkman. Joy watched for a moment, then closed the door. She loved Roy dearly but this time she was certain he was wrong. Helen Griffiths wasn’t fit for decent company. If he chose to allow Lily to carry on seeing the girl, that was his and Norah’s business. She would do everything in her power to make sure Judy never spoke to or was seen with Helen again.

  Roy had to bang on the Clays’ basement door a full ten minutes before Ernie opened it. Red-eyed, dishevelled after sleeping in his clothes, his thinning hair standing on end, his breath smelling like a mortuary in a heatwave, he glared balefully at Roy through gummed-up eyes. ‘What do you want?’

  Roy pushed his way in and looked around the kitchen. It was tidier than it had been the night before when he had helped Annie and Katie out through the door, but a privation that stemmed from more than lack of money screamed from every chipped, worn surface and cracked piece of china.

  ‘Annie’s in hospital.’

  ‘What’s the silly bitch done now?’ Ernie scratched his backside, then reached for his cigarettes. Pulling a crushed packet of Senior Service from his trouser pocket he stared at a few strands of tobacco, all that was left in the bottom of the silver foil.

  ‘If I had to make a guess, I’d say run into your fist.’

  ‘You want to be careful. I could sue you. That’s defamation of character, that is. My Annie ...’

  ‘Your Annie will be dead if she carries on living with you.’

  ‘She didn’t say I hit her.’ There was a glimmer of fear in Ernie’s eyes. ‘Did she?’ he challenged. Roy remained silent, watching Ernie’s apprehension grow. The fact that Ernie was afraid Annie might betray him was enough to give Roy hope that one day she would make the official complaint he needed to prosecute the man.

  ‘Did she?’ Ernie coughed up a gob of phlegm and spat in the sink.

  ‘She’s in a bad way this time.’ Roy avoided the question.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I found her here last night when I brought Katie home. Norah called an ambulance and the hospital telephoned the station this morning.’

  ‘What they want to do that for?’

  ‘They have to notify us of any unexplained injuries. It’s the law. Annie has a fractured skull and broken and cracked bones. Last night her right arm and face looked as though a steamroller had run over them.’

  ‘She’s clumsy.’

  ‘The only clumsy thing she ever did was marry you, Ernie.’

  ‘You’ve no right ...’

  ‘I’ve every right. I couldn’t call myself a man, much less a constable, if I sat back and watched you kill her without lifting a finger.’

  ‘But she didn’t say a word about me hitting her.’ Ernie stared at Roy, daring him to state otherwise.

  ‘Her jaw’s wired. She can’t say much.’

  ‘So she hasn’t made a complaint.’ Ernie smiled triumphantly, revealing a row of blackened and crooked teeth. ‘If she had, you’d have had me down the station by now.’

  ‘She’ll see sense one day.’ Roy wished today had been that day but even beaten, humiliated and exhausted by pain, Annie had persisted in perpetuating the myth that she’d fallen and hit her face on the sink. If it had been up to him, he would have persevered in the hope of persuading her to change her story, but the doctor and his sergeant had insisted he limit his questioning to no more than ten minutes.

  Hard-won experience and common sense dictated the sergeant’s handling of the situation. Domestics’ were notoriously difficult to prosecute. Most victims were intimidated, coerced or coaxed into dropping the charges by their assailant long before their case reached court, and as Annie wouldn’t even admit to being assaulted to begin with, he was working against impossible odds.

  ‘I warn you, Roy, keep your nose out of my affairs.’ Ernie opened the door.

  Roy stood his ground. ‘Until Annie’s well enough to come home, Katie stays with us.’

  ‘The hell she does! She’s my daughter.’

  ‘Annie asked Norah to take care of her. She wants it that way. Any argument from you and I’ll send Katie out of Swansea.’

  ‘Think you’re so bloody big in that uniform, don’t you? Well, it doesn’t cut any ice with me. I remember you when your arse was hanging out of your trousers and
your family didn’t have two halfpennies to rub together ...’

  Roy turned his back and walked away. His only thought was with the boys. He hoped Jack and Martin had left for the day. He couldn’t imagine where they’d gone but anywhere had to be better than what passed for their home.

  ‘It was an accident, Annie, pure and simple. You slipped on some water and fell against the sink. The sort of thing that can happen to anyone.’

  Annie struggled to open her swollen, bruised eyes, the only points of colour in her bandaged face.

  The rubber-tipped legs of Ernie’s chair squeaked as he dragged them over the highly polished lino closer to Annie’s bed. ‘It won’t happen again, Annie.’ Reaching out, he took her work-roughened hand in his. ‘I’ll give up the drink.’

  Annie mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘You’ve promised that before.’

  ‘This time I mean it,’ he snarled. A nurse sitting at the desk in the middle of the ward rapped hard with her knuckles as his voice sharpened. ‘I’ll turn over a new leaf, you’ll see,’ he whispered in a more conciliatory tone. ‘Come on, Annie. For better for worse, that’s what you always say, and we’ve had some good times.’ He straightened his tie as the nurse left her station to attend to a patient on the opposite side of the ward. ‘Do you remember all those picnics on Kilvey Hill? Catching the bus to Oxwich, swimming and looking for crabs and winkles on the rocks, you, me and the kids. The boys digging that enormous hole and little Katie falling headfirst into it. I had to fish her out ...’

  Annie turned her face to the wall. She remembered only one walk on Kilvey Hill when they were courting and a single trip to Oxwich with the Sunday school when the children were small. Ernie wouldn’t give them money for the outing the following year and shortly after that the boys had refused to go to church.

  Ernie glared as a cleaner clanked past with an enamel bucket and mop. ‘I’m not surprised you’re too tired to talk with the racket they make in here. It will be different when you come home, you’ll see. We’ll have another picnic. Perhaps even go back up Kilvey Hill. It’s still warm enough. We could take a trip up there next Sunday if you’re out of here. We may find some late blackberries. Remember that jam you used to make? It had a real tang to it, not like the shop-bought slops you put on the table these days.’ He shifted uneasily and his chair squeaked again. Annie turned back and watched him. He was brushing down his trousers. He’d washed and shaved for the occasion as well as donned his best – and only – suit. ‘Come on, Annie, you’re my girl, try to remember.’

  ‘Your wife probably finds it difficult to remember anything, Mr Clay. Her injuries are severe. We’ve had to give her a large dose of painkillers to enable her to cope with the discomfort.’

  A young doctor stood at the foot of Annie’s bed.

  ‘I can see that,’ Ernie bit back defensively.

  ‘I’d like to discuss your wife’s condition with you when I’ve finished my rounds. Shall we say ten minutes from now in the ward office?’

  ‘You can say what you bloody like. You don’t look like a proper doctor to me. You’re too young ...’

  ‘Ernie,’ Annie pleaded through numb and swollen lips.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Ernie capitulated. As the doctor walked away he squeezed Annie’s hand. ‘You’ve not been talking to anyone?’

  She winced as she shook her head.

  ‘That Roy Williams came calling this morning – he said to let me know you were in here. Bloody Nosy Parker! He insisted you wanted our Katie to stay with Norah until you came out. Well, I soon put him right on that. Her place is at home, looking after me and the boys.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘You all right, Mrs Clay?’ The doctor returned. Lifting her left arm, he took her pulse.

  ‘Of course she’s not all right,’ Ernie shouted. ‘Look at the bloody state of her.’

  ‘I’ll have to ask you to leave, Mr Clay, you’re upsetting the patient.’

  ‘That’s my wife!’

  ‘And my patient. Do I have to call a porter? The ward office is this way, Mr Clay.’ The doctor walked alongside Ernie. Opening the door, he blocked the corridor with his body leaving Ernie little choice but to enter the office.

  ‘Take a seat, Mr Clay.’ The doctor moved his own chair between Ernie’s and the door. ‘We’re concerned as to how your wife sustained her injuries.’

  ‘She fell.’

  ‘So she says, but I’ve checked her medical records and she seems to meet with far more accidents than the average woman.’ The doctor lifted a file from the desk and opened it. ‘January 1949, she broke her left arm in two places.’ He raised his eyes and looked at Ernie. ‘A difficult thing to do, even falling down stone steps, which is what she said she’d done. July 1949 cuts and bruises to her back, apparently sustained when hanging out washing on a wet day. Again, a strange thing for any housewife to do.’

  ‘We live in a basement, there’s nowhere else for her to hang the washing.’

  ‘Christmas 1949,’ the doctor continued, ‘cuts and bruising around the eyes. She walked into a door.’ He flicked through the pages at random. ‘February 1950, June 1950, two incidents during December 1951 – I could go on and on. Your wife has required hospital treatment on thirty-five separate occasions since your demob from the army in 1946.’

  ‘She’s clumsy.’

  ‘Don’t you think it peculiar that she didn’t require any treatment for injuries resulting from her clumsiness during the war? But, of course, you were away then, weren’t you?’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  The doctor looked Ernie coolly in the eye. ‘Nothing, as long as her injuries were accidental.’

  ‘She hasn’t said any different, has she?’

  ‘No,’ the doctor conceded.

  Ernie left his seat and jabbed his finger at the doctor’s white coat. ‘I want her home.’

  ‘She won’t be fit to resume her domestic duties for some time, Mr Clay.’

  ‘That won’t matter; we have a girl to help her. Her place is with me and her children.’

  ‘Not until I release her, Mr Clay, and I won’t be able to do that until her bones have mended and that is going take quite some time.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want to put your wife at risk, Mr Clay, would you?’ The doctor crossed his arms and stared back at him. After a few moments he rose from his chair and stepped aside. Pushing his way past, Ernie stomped through the door and down the corridor.

  ‘I tried to make Mam leave last night, Mr Williams, but all I succeeded in doing was making things worse for her.’

  ‘I doubt you did that, Martin. You’ve always done everything you can to help your mother.’

  ‘Not this time.’

  ‘What happened isn’t your or Jack’s fault, but the situation can’t be allowed to carry on. I spoke to the doctor this morning. Your mother might not survive another “fall” like the one she had last night.’

  ‘What about the police?’ Jack demanded belligerently. ‘Why don’t you protect her instead of going after innocent people?’

  ‘Get your mother to make a complaint, Jack, and we’ll do plenty. But until she signs a statement our hands are tied.’

  ‘And he can carry on beating her.’

  ‘While she insists her injuries are the result of accidents and continues to live with him, yes.’

  ‘I thought that if I found rooms she might leave him, but Jack and I looked all over this morning. There were a couple advertised in the newsagents but only for single blokes. We need somewhere big enough for Mam, Katie, Jack and me.’

  ‘Those girls all right?’ Roy asked as Norah walked in with a fresh pot of tea.

  ‘They’re upstairs in Lily’s room, sorting out accessories to go with Katie’s new costume for her interview tomorrow.’

  ‘Even if you found rooms, Mam wouldn’t move into them, Marty.’ Jack pushed his chair back from the table and stretched out his legs. �
��You heard her yesterday. She won’t leave him. He hits her about and she won’t have a word said against him.’

  ‘Well, your mam won’t be home for a while yet and there’s always the chance someone in the hospital will talk sense into her. Meanwhile, your Katie is fine here.’ Norah poured their tea, rested the teapot on the stand and lifted the milk jug and sugar basin from the tray. ‘So why don’t you boys find somewhere for yourselves? That is, unless you want to stay at home.’

  ‘Not on your – Nellie,’ Jack hastily amended a word he sensed Norah would object to. ‘But we don’t want to move too far from Katie in case she needs us.’

  Norah didn’t have to ask what the boy meant. They couldn’t be sure Katie was safe from their father’s violence, even in a policeman’s house. She looked at Roy.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking and it won’t work,’ Roy interceded.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s too close to Ernie, that’s why not.’

  ‘It’s as big as the place Ernie’s renting now, should Annie and Katie decide to move in with the boys later.’

  The decisive tone in Norah’s voice warned Roy further argument was useless. She had thought the situation through and found the solution. The risk of her remedy bringing trouble into the house counted for nothing, set against Annie’s, Katie’s and the boys’ troubles. ‘The rooms are a mess,’ he protested lamely.

  ‘What rooms, Mr Williams?’ Martin asked.

  ‘Our basement. It’s not up to much, three rooms and one of those is a sort of kitchen cum bathroom. We had a bath plumbed in and a gas water heater put above it during the war when an evacuee family lived there. There’s an outside toilet but I don’t need to tell you any more. All the basements in the street are much of a muchness.’

  ‘You’d rent us your basement?’ Martin questioned excitedly.

  ‘We’ve used it as a dumping ground for everything we didn’t want but considered too good to throw out for years. It needs a good clear-out.’

  ‘But it would be perfect. And, as Mrs Evans said, there’d be room for Mam and Katie if they wanted to join us.’